Alternate Generals III

"I say!" Mago exclaimed as the man's choice of divine vocative registered on his half-frozen brain. "You're a bally Roman spy!"

The man leaned forward and casually slapped Mago across the face. "Why'ncha say it a little louder, chump? I think there's maybe a coupla Carthaginian guards up the mountain who didn't hear ya."

The slap had no effect on a face already rendered about as sensitive to pain as an icebound boulder. Transported with unthinking delight, Mag turned his head toward Mel and chirped, "This is splendid, simply splendid! We've discovered a Roman spy in our midst! Good old General Ha

Mel sighed. "Aren't you overlooking one little thing, Mag, buddy?"

"What's that?"

"That knife he's got under your chin."

"What knife?"

"This one, bright boy," the Roman said, pushing the blade a little harder against Mag's numbed skin. "Feel that?"

"Sorry, old man," Mag said cheerfully. "Love to oblige you; not possible. Been out here all day in the bloody weather. Can't feel a thing."

"So howzabout you take my word it. Listen to your friend, there. Sounds like he's the brains of the outfit. Right, Brains?" he said, addressing Mel.

"Whatever you want, Roman," Mel replied. "I wouldn't turn you in even if I could. As far as I'm concerned, we owe Ha

This response clearly pleased the midnight visitor. "That's what I like to hear. Yeah, you are a smart guy. Rumor says the whole elephant-on-a-bun caper was your idea. Okay, Brains, listen up: As a whaddayacallit, duly appointed repurrese

Mel put on the biggest, blandest, most sardonic smile he could manage without cracking his frosted face. "Gee, pal, that all sounds reeeeaaaally nice. Right about now, a visit to su

The Roman scowled. "I'm tryin' to help you, an' you make fun of me? What, do I amuse you?" He tossed his knife from hand to hand meaningfully.

"Hey, hey, hey, no, nuh-uh, not at all, nope, no, sir, definitely not, you betcha." Mel had never spoken so quickly even when trying to explain to one Tyrian lady's rather brawny husband that nude singing lessons were all the latest rage. "All I'm trying to say is that maybe we'd better, uh, think things through before we make a break for it, see? Find some way to keep Ha

"Crush our heads?" the Roman repeated.

"By having the elephant step on 'em, yeah. That's it in a very squishy nutshell."

"Whoa. Now that sounds creepy. All we do back in Rome is crucify people." The Roman shook his head and muttered, "Man, you nutty Carthaginians, always two steps ahead of the game! We Romans better come up with something a whole lot scarier than crucifixion if we wa

"Good gracious, Mel, you don't really think that General Ha

"Trust me, Mag," Mel answered. "If there's one man who knows how to get the most out of an elephant, it's Ha

"Too bad we don't have any experience with the beasts, outside of how they taste, what?" Mago said, trying to jolly his mind away from thoughts of inevitable demise. "Win her trust, gain her affection, be like that odd chap back in Saguntum, the one who could get the beasts to do whatever he wanted just by whispering to 'em, somehow fix things so instead of hunting us down the old girl persuades General Ha

"Hunh! What kind of herbs have you been putting in your stewpot? It'd never happen. Like our Roman friend here said, Ha

"Unless the elephant were a touch mad, too, I suppose," Mago remarked. "As my dear Mamma always used to say, the only thing a madman respects is someone madder than he. I believe the phrase was coined during a particularly strenuous ballgame where the opposing team won by chopping off the- Ow!"

"Sorry." The Roman shrugged and looked sheepishly at the bloodstained knife blade that had just slashed through one of Mago's bonds and a bit of his wrist as well. "Slipped." He quickly severed the rest of the thongs binding Mel and Mag, then helped them to their feet.

"Look, we honestly appreciate the effort," Mel said as he rubbed some feeling back into his legs. "But weren't you paying attention? We won't be able to get away. Ha

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure." The Roman didn't look at all worried. "But like your friend here says, the only way to stop a crazy is to show him you're crazier than him." He reached under his cloak and tossed the newly freed Canaanites a pair of deadly-looking shortswords. "This is not a problem. C'mon. It's time we taught Ha

Ha

A childlike smile curved the corners of Ha

"Escaped?" he bawled, sitting bolt upright in the predawn blackness. "By all the gods at once, don't those Canaanite swine know there is no escape for them as long as I'm alive? Eshmunamash! Eshmunamash, get your ass in here and help me put on my armor. Eshmuna-! Damn, I knew I should've got me an aide-de-camp with a shorter name. Might as well start getting dressed myself, then go find that worthless-"